


Primrose Encounter

by MessyInsomniacBookGirl



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: Angst, Attempted Assault, Chance Meetings, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Just something my mind came up with, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Smut, Stalking, Thriller, Tom Is A Sweetheart, Tom saves the Day, mention of domestic abuse, no longer a one shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-03-23 00:26:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13775799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessyInsomniacBookGirl/pseuds/MessyInsomniacBookGirl
Summary: Ali meets Tom on top of Primrose Hill in 2014. In spite of her leaving an unforgettable impression on Tom, they go their separate ways after that meeting.A few years later, Tom sees someone unexpected and familiar when he visits his mother and meets her new neighbour. Only, said neighbour has no recollection of their previous encounter.Rated M because of TRIGGERS. Read the tags!NO LONGER A ONE SHOT! YES, YOU READ THAT RIGHT! I REPEAT. NO LONGER A ONE SHOT!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing.
> 
> I make no money from this.
> 
> This is my Sandbox for One Shots. :) ---> WAIT! NO LONGER A ONE SHOT! WHAT?!
> 
> TRIGGERS. Read the tags!

** Prologue **

 

Primrose Hill, London, Spring 2014.

 

As he made his way down Fellows Road and turned onto Primrose Hill Road, Tom saw a figure emerge from the Britannia Hotel. They started to make their way down the road in front of him and in the streetlights he could discern sports clothing, baggy sweats and a hoodie with the hood up, paired with running shoes. 

Apparently he wasn't the only one crazy enough to go running at a quarter past four in the morning. It was still dark out and even though London was never quiet, at this hour and in this neighbourhood the traffic had slowed down to just three cars passing him during the ten minute warm-up walk from his house to the entrance of Primrose Hill park.

Nearing the entrance, he lost sight of the other runner as they had started running as soon as they entered the park. Tom started with a few stretches and a few deep breaths, taking in the fresh and slightly chilly morning air of what promised to become a beautiful spring day. 

He’d returned from filming only the day before, and after a fitful sleep he couldn't stay in bed any longer, the streets of London beckoning him. He wasn't prone to being homesick when he was away, and he was away a lot, sometimes for months on end, but he did miss London and its busy streets, and its quirkiness. He was always happy to come home and enjoy a few days, or weeks, off, connecting to his blissfully normal life again. 

In this part of London, he was just Tom. It was almost devoid of nosy tourists, and residents here didn't care if he was famous and a movie star. They just kept on with what they were doing when he walked by. No screams or shouts for attention, no asking for autographs or hugs, just a sporadic greeting and sometimes, when it was one of the older neighbours, or one of the local shopkeepers who had gotten to ‘know’ him over the past couple of years, a chat. It was blessedly grounding in a life that was hectic and fun, but also very surreal. 

He had personally witnessed how some of his peers had lost their way in the world of glitter and glamour, gorged on it, drowned in it, letting themselves be carried away by the unstoppable current of nearly megalomaniac delusions of grandeur, and equally destructive amounts of emptiness and arrogance, that came with the acquiring of only a drop of fame. It hadn't been pretty to witness, and he’d been horrified by the destruction and desolation fame could bring.

He was now on the brink of superstardom and his drop of fame had turned into an ocean. It scared and elated him in equal parts. He was elated that so much of his work was now recognised and appreciated by critics and moviegoers alike, that he made a good living from his craft and that he had such a devoted fanbase, allowing him to choose the projects he really wanted, but he also knew that he needed to keep a place in his life that was only his, a place where he could unwind. 

His home in London and his mum’s house in Suffolk were well guarded refuges where he went to reconnect with himself, and take a step back from his life in the spotlights. They were sturdy ships of tranquility and privacy in the tumultuous sea of his public life and as long as they were there, he’d be alright.

The sky had grown lighter as he was stretching and it wouldn't be long before London awoke, bringing throngs of joggers to the park. And also bringing with them an increased risk of being recognised. Something that he actively tried to avoid when he was working out. It was such a hassle when all he wanted was to run his laps through Regent’s Park. Usually, he tried to be back on the Hill by the time the sun broke over the trees.

Hastily, he made his way down the east side of the hill, getting into the rhythm of running and music. 

Before long he had reached the exit of Primrose Hill and took a sharp right, not exiting yet, the path leading him along the southern border of the park. Within minutes he'd reached the south western edge, where he could cross the road and run past the Zoo and into Regent’s Park.

Just as he was to take a left to the street, a moving shadow to his right caught his attention. It was the other runner, who had apparently taken the path to the west of the hill.

‘Good Morning.’ He said, nodding cordially.

The figure stumbled and missed a step before righting herself, it was a woman he could see, now that she’d taken off the hood of her jacket. Hadn't she noticed him?

‘G-g-good M-morning.’ She stammered in accented English.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, did I startle you?’ Tom asked apologetically, stopping to see if she was alright. 

’N-no.’ She said, putting her hands up in a dismissive and apologetic movement. ’S-s-sorry.’ And with that she started running again, up the path he just came from, dark ponytail swishing with the rhythm of her steps.

Apparently he did scare her. He looked around and noticed how deserted and dark the park looked. _Yeah, Tom, great idea, just start talking, out of the blue, to a woman running alone in these circumstances. Of course she’s a bit jumpy, you oaf._ He berated himself.  Shaking his head at his own shortsighted surprise, he crossed the road and ran over the bridge toward Regent’s Park. 

Entering the Park, he passed a couple of inebriated young men, probably on their way back home from a party or a club. They were quite boisterous and he was glad it was still dark enough to pass them without being recognised. The fact that they were heading in the direction of the Hill, didn't escape his notice and he hoped the woman wouldn't run into them. He made a mental note to check on his way back.

As he ran, the sky started to lighten even more and by the time he made his way back up Primrose Hill, the sky was pink with the sunrise. He decided to run all the way up to the top to watch the sunrise over London. It had been a long time since he’d witnessed that.

Coming closer to the top, he looked up to the horizon and a beautiful sight greeted him. A lone figure -he thought it was the same woman as before, only she’d taken off her hoody and was now wearing a tank top instead- was performing some sort of acrobatic yoga on one of the benches located on the top of the hill. To him, this made it seem as if she floated a few inches above the ground when she placed her hands on the bench and pushed her body and legs up slowly to perform a perfectly straight and perfectly balanced handstand. The tranquility that exuded from her, made him stop in his tracks and admire the control she wielded over her body. It was beautiful to behold. Then she changed her balance, leaning more forward with her shoulders, and very slowly changed her position to where the tips of her toes -she’d taken her shoes off too- touched her ponytail and her back was hollowed and bowed scarily. _Jesus, how does someone bend like that?_

She was just straightening back up when her concentration was broken and her head snapped to her left, looking at something on the other side of the Hill. It looked like she was pushed, because she suddenly toppled over and fell from the bench.

Tom turned off his music and pulled the earbuds from his ears. He heard loud laughter just before he heard a panicked shriek. Without thinking he started to sprint up the rest of the Hill, feeling like he was wading through water. Too slow, too slow. 

‘Dude! Did you see that flexibility? You can bend her every which way you want! That’s gonna be fun!’ He heard a male voice exclaim loudly.

Another man just laughed and another shriek sounded.

‘Now, come on, honey, we just wanna have some fun. Don’t be such a stuck up bitch!’

‘No! L-l-l-let me g-g-go!’

‘Hahaha, did you hear that? We’ve got ourselves a stammering retard.’

‘You do know that little girls shouldn't be out at this time of night, don’t you? You could get into… trouble.’ More laughter echoed in the morning air.

When Tom finally made it to the top it felt like he had been running uphill for hours, while it hadn’t even been a minute.

‘Hey! Leave her the fuck alone!’ He bellowed while at the same time he freed his phone from its place on his arm, dialling 999. Thankfully he was immediately put through to an operator. ‘I need the police and an ambulance on Primrose Hill, near the north east entrance. There’s been an assault.’

‘Shit!’ One of the men exclaimed. ‘Let’s get out of here!’ He pushed the woman away from him and she stumbled to the ground. Both men ran off toward the north side of the park.

‘The perpetrators are fleeing to the north. Two caucasian men, around six feet each, wearing dark blue jeans. Both are wearing button-up shirts. One has a black leather jacket on. Both have dark hair.’ Tom quickly rattled off everything he remembered, knowing that these kinds of conversations were often recorded.

He answered a few more of the operator’s questions and rung off with an assurance that the emergency services would be there swiftly.

While speaking into his phone he had helped the woman up and she was now seated on the bench, her hands shaking and her breathing fast.

‘Miss, is there anything I can do for you? Someone I could call?’ He asked gently as he sat down on the edge of the bench, furthest removed from the woman. No need to aggravate her any more than she already was. He was determined to stay until the police had arrived, so that they could take her safely back to her hotel.

She shook her head and looked up at him with wide eyes. Her face was pale and it suddenly struck him that she was very skinny. Almost sickly so. Her cheeks were quite hollow and her wide cheekbones stood out sharply in contrast, making her dark hazel eyes look even bigger than they already were. As his eyes took all of her in, he saw her thin arms which were just skin stretched tautly over muscles and bone. He wondered how she had ever been able to hold herself up in the very strenuous yoga position for that long. She apparently was stronger than she looked. 

He noticed several discolourations on her arms in the form of handprints and then he saw that one of her eyes was a bit more closed than the other, indicating a healing black eye. Now that he looked closer, he could also see a greenish bruise on her jaw. He had thought that those marks on her face were dirt from her assault, but now he could see that that was not the case.

The woman noticed his close scrutiny and brought her hand up to her face, trying to shield it a bit from him.

’N-no, thank you. I w-w-will be a-alright.’ she said as she looked away as much as she could, without looking rude. ‘I’ve b-been through worse.’ she whispered so softly that he almost didn't hear it.

He looked at her sharply as a niggling feeling of dread crept through his body. She’d been through worse than this. The bruises. The handprints. Being so skinny it made his stomach hurt. Someone was abusing her. In that moment he made a decision. He would offer his help and see if she took it.

‘Hi, I’m Tom.’ he said and offered her his hand.

Hesitatingly she turned back to him and laid her cold, small hand in his, it almost drowning in his strong, warm grip.

‘Ali.’ she said softly, eyes quickly flitting to his and then away again.

In the distance he heard sirens that were coming closer fast. The emergency services were arriving.

‘Well, Ali, nice to meet you. Although I’d wish it were under better circumstances.’ 

She scoffed a bit and a wry smile graces her face.

‘Yeah, this sucks.’ She said in that accented English he had heard before. He couldn't quite place it, because her accent was very faint. Her English was too good to betray her country of origin, although he could hear it must have been one of the northern European countries.

‘What do you say to us making our way to the street, so we can meet the police there?’

‘O-okay.’ She nodded. She looked around and when she spotted what she was looking for, she inhaled sharply.

‘Oh, n-no, he’s going to k-k-kill me.’ She breathed as she launched herself from the bench towards the hoodie that was laying dirty and a bit scuffed on the gravel. Picking it up, she shook it out and softly moaned in desperation when she saw that the print on the front was damaged.

‘No no no no no no. This is his f-favourite.’

Tom observed how she almost manically started to brush off the garment and tried to fix the damaged print by pushing it back onto the fabric. He couldn't watch it any longer and laid a hand on her bony shoulder. He could feel how her whole body was strung tight, shivers running through her.

Him touching her shook her from her mania and she flinched away as her wild eyes shot to his face.

‘It’s going to be okay, Ali. Just breathe.’ He said in a soothing voice. ‘Who is going to be angry with you?’

She shivered.

‘My husband. H-h-he’s g-going to be s-so cross with m-me. I w-wasn’t sup-supposed to g-go out, b-but it w-wa-was so lovely outside, so I snuck out… And n-now I’ve destroyed his fav-favourite hoody.’

So, she was married. To a wife-bashing asshole no less. And she was scared to death of displeasing him. He couldn't help but try to ease her fear.

‘I’m sure he’ll understand if you explain it happened because you were assaulted. It’s not your fault.’

The way her eyes lit up with hope, almost broke his heart.

‘Y-you think he will?’ Her voice was almost childlike.

‘If you want I’ll come in with you to explain.’ He offered.

Immediately the light in her eyes died and the panic crept back in.

’N-no, you can’t. He d-doesn’t like it when I t-t-talk to other m-men.’ With halting movements she put the hoodie on and started to walk to where they could now see the flashing of police lights through the trees. 

A policeman came walking towards them.

‘Are you the one who called?’ He asked Tom as he curiously eyed the woman walking past him with her arms tightly wrapped around her torso.

Tom nodded.

‘Yes, I was on a morning run and then I ran into her being assaulted by two men. I managed to chase them off before they managed to… Well, hurt her more than they already did.’ He finished lamely.

‘Okay, if you’ll come with me, sir. We’ll take your statement at the car and have her checked out by the ambulance staff, and then you can be on your way.’ Tom followed the PC to the exit of the park and saw that a female PC was already taking Ali’s statement while the latter was being treated by a paramedic.

When he was done with his statement, he went to the ambulance to say goodbye to Ali and picked up the last part of a conversation she was having with the PC.

‘No, t-thank you. N-nothing is wrong. I’m j-ju-just c-clumsy, that’s all.’

‘If you’re sure…’ The PC said hesitantly. It was clear she didn't believe Ali, at all.

‘Y-yes, I fell d-down some s-s-steps a few days ago. N-nothing more.’

The PC sighed and shook her head.

‘Okay. Well, I’ve got enough here. I’ll leave you to it.’ She said to the paramedic, exchanging a look with him that spoke volumes.

The PC walked past Tom, back to her colleague. Tom looked back and saw them exchange a few words before they got back in the car and drove off. Wait… What?

He looked at Ali, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

‘Why are they leaving?’

‘I-I decided not to f-f-file a c-complaint. I’m okay.’ Her voice was firm and he understood that for her, the subject was closed. He decided to leave it. Having grown up with three headstrong women in his family, he knew when not to press.

‘Well, allow me to at least walk you back to your hotel, then… It’s on my way home, so it isn't a bother.’ He quickly added when he saw her open her mouth to protest.

‘Oh… Okay.’ 

The paramedic wrapped up the check-up and gave Ali permission to leave. 

Tom thought about offering her his arm for support, but reconsidered when she kept at least two feet of distance between them as they walked back to her hotel. The ambulance passed them and he intercepted the look of pity and worry the driver threw Ali as he gazed back at her. Ali didn't notice as she had her head down, eyes on the pavement and arms crossed in front of her chest. 

During the five minute walk back to the hotel they were both quiet. For once in his life, Tom didn't know what to say. He, the man who was known for his eloquence, was lost for words. But then again, what does one say to a woman who was voluntarily going back to a very volatile and dangerous situation? To a woman who had denied herself all offers of help?

He felt like he was walking a lamb to slaughter, every step they took closer to the hotel, felt like another pound of guilt weighing on him. But she was a grown woman, about his own age, maybe slightly younger, and the only one who could save her from this situation was Ali herself. He only hoped that she would be able to get out, before something horrific happened to her. 

At the entrance to the hotel she turned to him.

’T-thank you f-for all your help.’ She offered her hand, standing as far away from him as she could and anxiously glancing in the direction of the glass hotel doors. ‘It was n-nice to meet you, Tom.’

Tom shook her hand and smiled gently.

‘Nice to meet you too, Ali. May I give you a hug?’

Ali pulled her hand back and shook her head, taking a step back, towards the doors.

‘B-better not. Thanks again… Have a n-nice d-day.’

‘You too, darling.’ He said quietly, as he watched her hop up the steps and walk through the hotel doors without looking back.

Sighing deeply, he placed his hands on his hips and looked down at the pavement for a few moments. he was torn between the need to go after her and help, and the rational part of his brain that urged him to let it go, that there was nothing he could do about this situation. Rationality won and he rubbed his hands over his face, feeling helpless, before he started walking again, back to his home; suspecting that those big, sad eyes of hers would haunt him for a very long time to come.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom rings his mum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it isn't like I have nine other stories to write... XD
> 
> I own nothing but my OCs and this storyline.
> 
> I make no money from this story.
> 
> This is my Sandbox. :)

**Chapter 1**

 

18 January 2016 - Ha Noi, Northern Viet Nam, 23:06

 

‘Hello, Mum! It’s me.’ 

_‘Oh, Tom, so nice to hear your voice. I was wondering when they were going to let you off for the night. They’re not working you too hard are they?’_

The worry in his mum’s voice made him smile. She was always looking out for him, no matter how well he did as an adult. It was sweet.

‘No mum, I’m fine. We’ve been doing interviews over the past few days, and we’ve been exploring Hanoi in our free time. I just got back from supper. The food is lovely here. Vietnamese desserts are delectable, and the coffee is heaven.’

His mum snorted at that. Actually snorted. It wasn't that funny, what he'd said. Was it?

_‘Leave it to you to skip straight on to the food and drink. How’s the rest of the country? I bet it’s beautiful. Are the people friendly? And how are your colleagues? Everyone still getting along?’_

‘It really is beautiful here. Lots of old french colonial buildings and so many vivid colours. And it’s very busy. People are everywhere, and each one of them has a motor-scooter, with which they transport _everything_. From four to five people, to fifty inch flatscreen televisions, fridges and large glass windows. Traffic is chaos. Crossing the road is pretty much finding a gap in traffic, throwing yourself into it, keeping on walking straight on, and hope for the best. Somehow I’ve survived all my road crossings up until now. It’s a miracle. And yes, everyone is very friendly and accommodating. The guys and gals are getting along as well as can be expected of people who have been in each other’s space for the past three months. So far it’s been good.’ He said with a smile. ‘How are things at home? All good in your neck of the woods?’

_‘All’s good here too, darling…’_ She was silent for a few moments as she mentally went over things to tell him. Then, _‘Ah, yes, do you remember that I told you that Beryl had passed away in November?’_

Tom made a humming noise to indicate he remembered. His mum had been heartbroken. And so had he and his sisters. Beryl had been their neighbour and a good friend of their mum’s for over twenty-five years and they had spent quite a few childhood afternoons in her kitchen, baking cookies. Her house was more of a lean-to-cottage to the big house his mum occupied. It was quite a bit smaller, having only a kitchen-diner and a living room with an attached conservatory on the ground floor and two double bedrooms and a bathroom on the first floor. He had to admit that the rooms weren't small, but compared to his mum's six-double-bedroom-three-reception-room-and-big-living-kitchen house, it was tiny. 

_‘Well, the house was put up for sale and was almost immediately sold, at the end of December, and as of four days ago I have a new neighbour.’_ His mum sounded very pleased with this news. 

Tom couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment. Had he known that Beryl's daughter was putting the house up for sale, he would have loved to buy it for himself. Too late now, though. 

'That's lovely, mum. Have you met him yet?'

_'Her.'_ His mum immediately corrected him. _'Yes, I have met her. She came by to say hello the day before yesterday. Brought some delicious cookies as a present, they’re called stroopwafels. You should try them if you ever come across them. We had them with a cup of tea. She's Dutch by the way. Lovely woman. She's a widow and she wanted a change of scenery after everything she went through.'_

In Tom's head a picture formed of a woman his mum's age, as his mum rattled on. 

' _Poor woman. She lost her husband when they got into a car accident. She had a stroke due to head trauma and was in a coma for over a month. Her speech is slightly slurred now and then, and sometimes she has trouble with her balance, but over all she was lucky. She still goes to physical therapy once in a fortnight and she joined a gym in Ipswich where she does, um, Thai boxing? Muwah Thai? Thai Jutsu? I don't know. It's Thai something. To help with building her strength and balance back up.’_

Tom chuckled at his mum's butchering of the martial arts. 

'I think you mean Tai Chi, mum. And yes, that can be beneficial for training your balance. So, she's nice then?'

_'She's lovely, Tom. Younger than I am of course, but I can tell we will get along just nicely. I invited her for Sunday roast next week.’_

The woman in Tom's head lost a few years and her shoulder-length hair went from white to an ash grey colour. His mum went on with her story. 

_'She told me she makes jewellery for a living and sells it online and she paints a bit in her spare time. She's very artistic. She has a nose piercing and ear piercings and her hair has streaks of teal in it.'_

And, again, Tom adjusted the picture in his head. A fifty something alternatively dressed woman with long grey and teal hair, stringing multicoloured beads together into a necklace. More of a hippie type than a grandma type. 

_'I've asked her if she would do something with her jewellery for the Festival, in June, but she wasn't sure yet. Oh, well, she's only just moved here. I understand if she felt a bit overwhelmed by my request.'_

Tom snickered. His mum was always on the lookout for new talent to showcase at the Festival of Music and Arts, which was held in her town every June. It used to be only about music, but in the past few years the focus had shifted and it embraced a wider range of artistry, allowing for collaborations between the different disciplines, and there were weekend art markets in the centre of town.

'I'm sure you'll wear her down eventually.' He teased.

_‘Oh, you! You make me sound like an old nag.’_ She scolded him, but he could hear the laugh in her voice.

‘Sorry, mum, but you have to admit, usually when you set your sights and mind on something, you work on it until you get your way.’ He laughed and heard his mum chuckle on the other end of the line.

_‘Sounds very much like someone else I know.’_ She shot back wittily. _‘Like mother, like son. Hmmm? ’_

Tom smiled softly. They were much alike in that way.

‘Right you are.’

There was a comfortable silence for a few seconds. Both mother and son occupied by their own thoughts.

‘So, how’re Sarah and Emma?’ Tom asked, yawning. It had been a long few days.

His mum enthusiastically started recounting the Skype chat she’d had with Sarah and her husband Yakov, and of course her granddaughter, Nina, Tom’s niece. They lived in India, where both Sarah’s and Yakov’s jobs were based.

_‘Sarah and Nina will be here in May and June. Emma said she’d plan in a few weekends to see them. Which is lovely. We will be able to enjoy the beach and the Festival together. Any chance you’ll be able to make it, too? Sarah told me that she misses her little brother. It’s been so long since she’s seen you in person. And she’s right, you know, we don't see you enough. Maybe you can take a holiday this summer?’_

‘I’ll see what I can do, mum. I don't have many things on my schedule for summer, so maybe I’ll be able to squeeze you all in somewhere.’ He teasingly said. ‘I’ll probably be home for some of the Festival.’

He would be busy for the coming months, but, apart from a few public appearances and interviews, he’d made sure his summer was as free as it could be in his line of work. He needed the down time after the crazy schedule he’d been following for what felt like decades.

He’d be in London for three weeks in May, but that time was fully crammed with business meetings and interviews for television, radio and the magazines. And he’d be presenting at the Baftas. June and July were virtually open -with the exception of SDCC at the end of July- and from halfway through August and onwards he’d be shooting the third instalment of the Thor franchise. 

He was glad to have six weeks off, after shooting several films and a tv-series back to back over almost two years. Over Christmas break, when he had been in London, his friend Ben had joked about the possibility that he’d forgotten what his house looked like. And the man was right. He hadn't really been home for almost eight months. A few quick stints of a couple of days here and there, that had been the extent of his home-life in at least the past year. And that trend would extend for at least another four months from now.

Tom sighed into the quiet that fell between him and his mum; suddenly feeling so very tired.

‘I’m tired, mum.’ He said quietly, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

His eyes stung as he was hit by a wave of homesickness and exhaustion. He was tired. Not of the work -he loved his craft, more than anything. He could do that all day, every day-, but of the whole fame hullaballoo; of being pulled in all directions and being spread thin. Everyone seemed to want a piece of him, and, after years of performing in interviews, jumping through hoops for his fans, and sending his energy into the bottomless pit that was show-business, he didn't know if he had anything left to give. He was running on fumes.

_‘Oh, Darling.’_ A sad sigh sounded from his mum.

He sighed again, deeply, to dislodge the constricting feeling in his chest, pushing his turmoil away. No time to linger on something he couldn't change right now. He cleared his throat.

‘I’ll be alright, mum. After I’m done shooting Thor, at the beginning of October, I’ll take a couple of months off. I don’t have anything big planned for almost a year after that, so I’ll be home more often. I’ll come by so much you’ll get sick of me.’ He joked.

_‘Never.’_ His mum said with conviction. _‘I’ll never tire of seeing my darling boy.’_

Tom snickered a bit at that.

‘You do know I’m almost thirty-five, right? Hardly a boy.’

_‘You’ll always be my little boy, no matter how old you get.’_ She shot back with a laugh. _‘And now it’s time for you to go to bed. Get some rest.’_

‘Yes, mum.’ He dutifully said, chuckling. 

After saying a few goodbyes back and forth, they rang off. Tom falling back onto his hotel bed and closing his eyes a split second before sleep overtook him.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something short and sweet. In more ways that one... :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but my OCs and this storyline.
> 
> I make no money from this story.
> 
> This is my sandbox. Yay! :D

**Chapter 2**

 

_ 8 May 2016 - Suffolk, UK, 14:07 _

 

‘Hello, darling! Everything in order for tonight? Did you get the cufflinks I sent you?’ Diana sat down on the sofa in her living room, holding the house pone to her ear as she talked to her son, who was getting ready for his appearance at the Bafta Awards in London. 

_‘Hi, mum! Yes, all’s well. But, um, about those cufflinks… Where did you find them? they’re flawless. I can’t believe the detail on these things. The filigree is immaculate; someone put so much work and effort into crafting them. And what are those light blue gemstones?’_ Tom’s rapid fire talking and questions made Diana chuckle. Her boy was excited. _‘They must have been so expensive. You know I’d be happy with just a hug and a kiss, right? You don’t have to buy me such ridiculously costly trinkets. I’m the bad son who missed celebrating his birthday by being in Australia and not being home for the past five months…’_ Tom was silent for a moment, as if contemplating something. _‘Wait… Are you intentionally guilting me, mum?’_ His voice was amused and Diana could hear a snicker.

‘Of course I’m not guilting you. Can’t a mum show how proud she is of her son by buying him a gift? It wasn’t even that expensive; just the base costs for the materials used... Ada designed and crafted them for me in her workshop as thanks for being there for her in the past four months. I helped her with a few things and she insisted on paying me back. So, no need to worry about your mum going bankrupt any time soon.’ She joked. ‘Oh, and the stones are blue Aquamarine gem stones, their colour reminded me of your eyes, and the metal and filigree work is white gold.’ Diana could hear clinking as her son undoubtedly studied the work from even more close by.

_‘Ada made these?! Mum! When you told me she made jewellery, I thought you meant that she made bead necklaces -cheap baubles- to sell at creative fairs and farmer’s markets. You could have mentioned that your neighbour is a master goldsmith!’_ He sounded exasperated.

‘Thomas! It isn’t _my_ fault that you jumped to conclusions about my friend. I’ve told you a lot about her in the past few months. Haven’t you been paying attention at all? I must have mentioned her work a few times… Haven’t I?’ She was wondering to herself how she could have missed telling him that. She'd told him everything else...

_‘Um, no, you haven’t. You told me about the stroke she had and that she thought she was recovering well. Then she had a setback and she needed help, but the NHS wouldn’t fund her home carer and you helped her instead. She’s a lot better now apparently. She makes lovely necklaces and bracelets -which I thought were bead ones, by the way-. She helps with carrying your groceries when you see her on the High Street and she comes over for a cuppa a few times a week and sometimes she stays for Sunday roast… Oh, and she loves banoffee pie. That’s it, I think…’_

‘Well, it’s good to hear that you at least listen to me when I tell you about what’s happening in my life.’ Diana smiled at her son’s rattling off of facts about Ada. The boy had always had a steel trap for a mind. It came in very handy in his line of profession.

She heard Tom’s chuckle from the other side of the line.

_‘Of course, I learnt to listen to you from early on, mum.’_ A laugh was in his voice as he teased her about her strictness in her children’s early childhood. It had paid off, though, as all three of them had grown up to be well-adjusted adults who were successful in their own rights.

‘And don’t you forget it.’ She teased back. ‘So, what else is going on in your life since we spoke to each other last?’

_‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’_ He was silent for a few moments. Then, _‘Look, mum, I’ve got to go, the stylist has just arrived. I’ll talk to you later, okay?’_

‘Sure, darling. Are you still coming up for the Festival, in June?’ She wondered why he hadn’t mentioned all the media hype that surrounded him, dancing at that party, with that American singer, what was her name again? Taylor… something. Usually she was the first one he rang when he was going to be in the tabloids, but now he’d been awfully quiet about it. She sighed softly, so he wouldn’t hear. 

Then she told herself off for feeling hurt over such a trivial thing. He’d tell her eventually. Probably.

_‘Of course! I wouldn’t miss it for the world. And I’m looking forward to finally meeting Ada.’_ He was quick to assure her; his voice warm.

Diana made a humming sound in agreement.

‘You’ll love her, she’s so passionate about her craft and about all art in general. She almost rivals your work ethic when she’s immersed in a project.’

_‘Sounds great. Mum, I gotta go. Love you!’_ He sounded a bit rushed now. The stylist must be becoming impatient.

‘I love you too, darling. Have a great night, Tom.’

_‘Thank you! Bye.’_

‘Bye.’

After they’d rung off, Diana replaced her phone in the charging dock. Another sigh escaped her. She had a feeling that her son wasn’t telling her something and it didn’t sit right with her. There was a niggling feeling in the back of her head that she couldn’t quite shake.

Her reflective thoughts were disrupted by a light knock on her front door, then there was a key in the lock and it opened to the woman she’d just talked about to her son. A smile formed on her face as she stood up from the sofa to greet her friend.

‘Ada! What a surprise! I hadn’t expected you back before five.’

Ada smiled brightly at her, lighting up the room with her sunny disposition, and with it, lightened Diana’s worried thoughts about Tom.

‘Yes, there was almost no wait, which is a miracle in itself, and the appointment went so well, I was done in forty-five minutes. And then I went into the city centre to do some shopping, but I got tired, so I decided to drive home.’

Ada had been to a checkup appointment at the hospital in Ipswich. Her stroke had left her with a few minor disabilities, mostly to do with her balance and gross motor skills, and she attended bi-monthly checkups to make sure they didn’t worsen and cause a relapse.

‘Well, that’s good news. I’m happy that you’re getting so much better.’ Diana said with a smile. ‘I have a bit of news myself. Guess what? Tom received the cufflinks today, and he loved them. He just rang me. I had to tell you that he thinks that you’re a master at what you do. He’ll be wearing the cufflinks tonight, during the BAFTA’s.’

The other woman hummed delightedly at this news.

‘That’s fantastic, Diana. I’m so happy that you like them, and that he likes them too. I can’t believe some of my work is going to be worn to the BAFTA’s.’ She sounded almost out of breath at the thought, in a good way.

Diana was sure that if she wasn’t so self-controlled, Ada would have squeed with joy. She sometimes wondered what had happened to the younger woman for her to always be so poised. It was almost scary to see her almost explode in exuberance and then reign it back in and just give a slight smile to convey her happiness. She’d gotten used to Ada behaving in this way, but, at the beginning of their acquaintance, it had been quite hard for Diana to get a feel for her new neighbour’s moods and feelings. It was almost like she had been conditioned to not disclose how deeply her emotions went and only showed the outside world the most perfunctory part of herself.

Diana had become fluent in Ada’s body language in the past couple of months and she could see that, on the inside, Ada was almost vibrating with excitement; her sparkling hazel eyes the only part of her that betrayed the happiness she was experiencing.

Ada raked a hand through her short, artfully dishevelled, punky, dark brown hair, messing it up even more than it usually was, and sighed happily, a slight smile playing on her lips. Then she startled out of her happy daze, as if remembering something, and her eyes focussed on Diana.

‘Oh, yes, I wanted to ask you, I’m going for some groceries, do you need anything from the shops?’

Diana smiled warmly at the other woman and shook her head.

‘No, thank you, darling, I have everything I need. So sweet of you to think of me.’

‘Of course.’ Ada replied with a smile. ‘Well, then, I am off again. See you later, Diana!’ After a kiss to the cheek of the older woman, she gave a wave and then was out the front door.

‘Bye, darling.’

Diana shook her head at the energetic demeanour of her neighbour. She was always so full of restless vigour, it almost contradicted the iron self-control she had on her emotions. Diana hoped that, whatever had made Ada’s character so contradictory that she was almost a split personality, it would never return to the woman’s life, so she would one day be able to unlearn the almost neurotic urge to shield her real self from the rest of the world. Until then, Diana would do her best to chip away at the wall she’d put up, with gentleness and friendship. And maybe -if she let her- also by trying to be the mother figure the woman clearly so desperately needed. 


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 2016.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but my OCs and this storyline.
> 
> I make no money from this.
> 
> This is my sandbox.

**Chapter 3**

 

_ Friday, 24 June 2016 - Suffolk, UK, 11:32AM_

 

Locking the door to her shop behind her, Ali turned to the little girl who was bouncing on the balls of her small feet. She was obviously very excited.

Nina was Diana’s granddaughter by her daughter Sarah, who was visiting from Chennai, India. Little Nina had accompanied her mum to the UK, while Sarah’s husband had stayed behind. He had been too busy at work to be able to get time off.

‘Come on, auntie Ada! We have to show Nan and mum my new necklace!’ The girl grabbed her hand and tried to pull her along enthusiastically.

Nina had ‘helped’ her in her shop in the morning, while Diana and Sarah enjoyed some mother-daughter time. 

At first Ali hadn’t known what to do with the little girl. It wasn’t like she was used to being around small children… Or any children, now that she thought about it. But soon, the five year old - _almost six!_ Nina had said yesterday- had expressed a big interest in the different coloured glass, pearl and -gem-stone beads that had been stored in a large container in her workshop. Those were the beads she’d deigned not good enough to use in her jewellery, due to imperfections, and it had been her plan to use them in a bead mobile to hang in her kitchen window, but as soon as she’d seen the child’s delight when she spotted the pretty sparklies, she’d given the girl a long piece of extra fine necklace-cable, set her down on a stool at her crafting table and had let her go to town on the container with beads. 

After a few minutes of fidgeting with the small beads, she’d gotten the hang of it and her small fingers had made quick work of the crafting of a necklace. 

Ali had let her pick a pendant to put in the middle of necklace and after Nina was finished she had gifted the necklace to the little girl, who had been over the moon that she got to keep the piece of self-made jewellery. It had made Ali smile to see the unbridled happiness on the child’s face.

After Nina had finished crafting her necklace, she’d chatted with a few customers who had come into the shop. None of the customers had shown any hesitation towards the child, so Ali had just kept an eye on her while she worked on her jewellery pieces and let Nina do her ‘thing’.

It had even resulted in two sales and she was of a mind to keep Nina around while she was visiting her Nan. She was good for business. The thought had made Ali laugh quietly as Nina had begun a conversation with yet another person who had wandered into the shop.

Now it was time for lunch, and, as usual, she’d closed her shop to go and eat something at home -which usually meant having lunch at Diana’s-.

‘Just a minute, Nina, I still have to close the shutters.’ She reminded the girl, gently untangling her hand from Nina’s. 

Smiling down at the girl, she put her key into the lock for the automatic shutters and turned it, so the shutters came gliding down.

When the shutters were closed completely, Ali locked them and took a step back to admire the paint job that showed the name of her shop. ‘ _Brighde_ ’ -Pronounced, Breej-eh, named after the Celtic goddess of creativity and arts and crafts- was painted in large gold letters on a light-blue background. She’d done it herself and she’d done a pretty good job, if she said so herself.

After hanging the dark blue sign with white letters, saying, _‘out for lunch, back at 13:00’_ , she’d held clamped under her arm, on a hook that protruded from the wall, she smiled at Nina and held out her hand.

‘Come on, munchkin, let’s go see your mum and Nan about some lunch, shall we?’

With a loud _‘Yay!’_ Nina took her hand again and together they walked up the High Street, to the Town Steps, and made their way up the stairs that took them, from almost sea level, up to the much higher located road, a street that led further inland, past a church and then to the road where Ali -and Diana- lived. Nina chatted the whole way, about the sea and the shop and her necklace and about India and her friends in Chennai.

When Nina and Ali turned the corner to the road she lived on, they were greeted by quite the group of men and women with cameras. The photographers were crowding the street, all of them apparently focussed on one of the houses down the street. 

Ali was curious as to why there was such a ruckus.

‘Excuse me.’ She said to one of the men holding a camera. ‘What is going on? Did something happen?’ 

The man looked her up an down and raised his eyebrows in surprise. Probably at seeing her unusual clothing style. She was wearing a bright orange tank top under purple denim harem dungarees with a loose hanging lime green cardigan on top. The outfit was complemented by a pair of chunky, dark red Doc Martens boots. Add to that her spiky brown and teal hair and the multiple ear piercings and nose and septum piercing and she was quite the apparition.

Blinking a couple of times, the man seemed to shake himself from his stupor.

‘Damn, hon, did you get puked on by a rainbow?’ He grinned at her.

Ali huffed irritatedly.

‘Never mind. Can you let us through? We live further up the street and I’d love to go and have some lunch before I have to go back to work.’

‘Well, no need to be so blunt, hon.’ He picked up his equipment and put it to the side, so Ali and Nina could pass him safely on the pavement.

‘Thanks.’ Ali murmured and they were on their way again.

‘Hey! You live here, right? Any chance you know Tom Hiddleston’s mother?’ The man called after her. She tensed as she turned around slightly, her arm coming to rest on Nina’s shoulders. She hoped the kindergartener wouldn’t start chatting about her Nan, but apparently she’d been well trained by her parents to divulge nothing about her family to strangers, and she stayed quiet.

Ali frowned at the man, a mask of confusion tightly secured over her face.

‘Whose mother?’ She asked, hoping she was convincing enough.

The man looked at her like she’d just grown two heads.

‘How can you not know…’ He fell silent, shaking his head at her portrayal of ignorance. ‘You know what, never mind. Keep walking. If they come out of the house, I don’t want you in the shot.’

Relieved, Ali turned back around and walked a bit faster, the little girl on her side almost running to keep up.

‘Aunt Ada, are those men here for uncle Tom?’ She whispered curiously.

‘I think so, munchkin. We must not let them know who we are, otherwise they will follow us home. So just keep walking and be really quiet, okay?’ Ali whispered back, conspiratorially, giving the little girl a wink so she would think it more of a game than a serious situation.

Nina smiled up at her.

‘Okay.’ she whispered.

Together, they walked up the street until they came to the gate to Diana’s front garden. Ali saw a fleet of expensive cars parked in front of the house. There was a sleek, black Jaguar on the drive, next to Diana’s small Peugeot, and a couple of large and intimidating looking, black SUVs were parked along the curb. It almost looked like Diana was being visited by the queen, or someone equally important. 

Nina and she were pretending to be walking by the house, but at the last moment, Ali’s hand shot out and pushed open the high garden gate, grabbing onto Nina with her other hand and pulling her into the front garden. The little girl let out a squeal in excitement and fell against her in a fit of laughter. Ali chuckled at her obvious delight.

Quickly, Ali closed the gate behind them and followed Nina to the front door. She fished the house key out of her pocket and swiftly unlocked the door. Nina and she both entered the house while they were still giggling and chuckling about how they’d tricked the photographers.

As they walked from the entrance hall to the entry of the sitting room, their way was suddenly blocked by two very large men. Large, as in the height _and_ in the muscle department.

Ali looked up and the serious expressions on their faces scared her a bit. They didn’t look very friendly.

‘Who are you?’ One of the giants asked.

Ali swallowed as she tried to talk, her mouth was so dry.

‘I, uh…’ was all she could formulate.

‘What are you doing in mrs Hiddleston’s house?’ The other one asked.

Thankfully she found her voice again, in spite of her heart beating in her throat.

‘I’m Diana’s neighbour. She’s expecting us for lunch.’ Clearing her throat she returned the man’s intimidating scowl with a deliberately innocent expression on her face. ‘What are _you_ doing here?’

‘And I’m Nina.’ A defiant little voice said from next to her. ‘My Nan lives here.’ 

The first man turned to someone in the living room.

‘Go check with them.’ He said. Ali could hear an ‘ _affirmative’_ and she heard a door open and close. Probably the door to the kitchen.

‘I wanna go to my mummy.’ Nina suddenly said, sounding a bit upset. When Ali looked down, she saw a wobble in the girl’s chin. Oh dear, the munchkin was becoming scared.

She lifted Nina in her arms, grunting from the weight that was suddenly baring down on her legs. She wasn’t as strong as she had been before she’d had the stroke and it showed. Not that it was going to let it stop her from holding the little girl; or getting her to her mum, asap.

‘It’s okay, munchkin. I’m going to get you to your mum.’

She turned away from the man in the door opening and walked her precious cargo to the back of the hallway, where there was another door. Which also led to the kitchen.

‘Hey, you can’t go there!’ The man called as he came after her.

‘Watch me!’ she snapped back. Before he could reach her, she’d thrown open the door to the kitchen and stepped through. She was stopped by a hand that clamped around her upper arm like a vice. She groaned in pain. ‘Let me go!’ She hissed.

The man didn’t listen and pulled her back, trying to wrestle a now crying Nina from her arms. And then all Ali saw, was red.

‘Don’t touch her! Don’t you _dare_ touch her!’ She yelled as she turned her body away from him, getting Nina out of his reach. She set Nina down on the floor and turned back to the man, kicking out with her sturdy boots and hitting his shin. She pulled back her leg and then kicked him in the nuts quite forcefully. He went down like a boulder, thudding loudly against the wood flooring, holding his family jewels and groaning. 

After double checking that he really was out for the count and concluding he wasn’t getting up soon, she turned back to Nina, who was now staring up at her through her tears as if she'd hung the moon and the stars. She fell to her knees in front of the girl, checking her over for injuries.

‘Are you alright?’ She asked, frantically. The girl nodded and hugged her around her neck.

Then she became aware of loud arguing behind them.

‘That is my daughter, you _arsehole!_ Let me through!’ Ali heard Sarah say forcefully. Ah, she’d probably been in the garden and had come in at hearing the ruckus in the kitchen. In a matter of seconds, the woman was beside them, taking over her daughter from Ali, the anxious expression on her face lessening when she saw her daughter was safe. 

Then she looked to Ali. ‘Ada, are you okay?’ She asked softly. 

Ali nodded and wiped at her face, suddenly aware that she was crying. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes, suddenly happy that she hadn’t put on makeup in the morning. Otherwise she’d have looked like a panda right now.

An almost hysterical giggle escaped her as she contemplated the complete and utter randomness of this thought. 

Slowly she breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, trying to calm herself down. It wouldn’t do to get a panic attack right now.

‘What on earth is going on here?’ A female voice with an American accent suddenly asked.

While Sarah and Ali had been comforting Nina, a group of people had come into the kitchen. Amongst them, were Diana, and Diana’s son, Tom, whom she recognised from the pictures the woman had shown her. Next to him stood a tall, willowy, blond woman; she was the one who had spoken. Ali estimated her to be in her mid twenties.

Diana took in how both Sarah’s and Ali’s kneeling postures were shielding her granddaughter from the large males in the room and frowned.

‘What happened, Ada?’ She asked.

Ali looked up at her friend with an apologetic expression on her face. _Shit_ , she was in so much trouble! She now recognised that there was no threat and felt quite stupid for what she was sure Diana would see as overreacting.

‘Diana, I am so sorry. We came in for lunch, when those men stopped us and scared Nina, so I tried to get her to Sarah, but he wouldn’t let me.’ She nodded at the man who was only now getting up from the floor, being helped to stand by his colleague. ‘So, I kicked him in the nuts.’ She grimaced in shame and shrunk in on herself, wrapping her arms around her torso, expecting to be chastised.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confusion and Explanations

**Chapter 4**

 

After her confession on the nut kicking, Ali heard a soft laugh come from Diana’s son, before the American girl next to him, elbowed him in the side, frowning and shaking her head. The man bit his lip and swiftly schooled his face into an expression of polite friendliness.

Diana quickly walked up to Ali and took her arm, helping her to her feet. Ali swayed a little and knew that her friend could feel the trembling in her body. Now that the adrenaline was leaving her system, she was starting to feel a bit faint.

‘Is everything okay, darling?’ Diana asked, giving her a worried look when Ali leaned on her a little heavier than expected. 

Ali nodded and took a deep breath, rubbing her face and wiping away all evidence of her earlier tears.

‘Yes, I’m fine.’ She answered, and righted herself, fighting to keep her equilibrium. Then whispered softly to Diana, ‘ _P_ _lease, don’t let go of me._ ’

Diana looked at her sharply, assessing the situation and nodding almost imperceptibly, supporting her by strengthening her hold on Ali’s left arm.

‘What _I_ want to know, is how it is possible that one of my bodyguards was so easily brought down by a slip of a woman.’ The blond American woman asked, sounding quite put off. She turned to one of the men, who was apparently the team leader. ‘I hire you to protect me, and then one of your men gets taken out by a tiny woman, after you scare her and Tom’s niece half to death. I’m of a mind to fire you all. _So_ unprofessional.’

She made her way to Ali and Diana, taking Ali’s hand in hers and suddenly looking very apologetic; her ire from seconds before all but gone. 

‘I’m _so_ sorry for the misunderstanding, ms…’

Ali looked up at the contrite face of the tall, blond woman. She felt like a frumpy little leprechaun next to the woman's elegant posture.

‘Um… Benoit. Adaline Benoit.’ She said quietly.

The woman smiled at her and shook the hand she had in hers.

‘It’s nice to meet you, ms Benoit. I’m Taylor Swift. Tom and I have only just arrived. I am _so_ sorry that I didn’t have the time to brief my security detail on your pending arrival. Please accept my sincerest apologies on what happened to you.’

Ali was certain that she looked very unsure of herself, and the situation, as she nodded. She frowned at her own insecurity and let go of the breath she felt she'd been holding ever since Diana and her guests found her and Nina in the kitchen.

‘Of course, miss Swift.’ She wasn’t quite sure what to think of the overly apologetic American. The woman was so... over the top. Ali wasn't used to that.

‘Oh, please call me Taylor. Is it okay if I call you Adaline?’

Ali shook her head, giving Taylor a small smile.

‘Call me Ada, please... Adaline is such a mouthful.’

‘Okay, Ada. How about we go outside? The weather is fantastic and we brought a lovely lunch. There is enough for everyone.’ She gracefully gestured to the open french doors.

Ali looked to the side, to Diana, who was still supporting her trembling form. Her friend nodded encouragingly and gave her a little push to indicate to Ali to walk to the garden.

‘We have the garden chairs and table out. I thought it would be nice to have our lunch outside, now that the weather is so lovely.’ Diana said.

Taylor walked in front of them and passed Diana’s son on her way out of the kitchen, letting her fingers slide over his arm in a cute sort of greeting before she disappeared into the garden. The man gave her a slight smile as she passed him, his eyes following her form as she walked by. Then he stayed put until his mum and Ali had reached him. Diana stopped Ali in front of him and patted him on the arm, while Sarah and Nina passed them to help Taylor with setting out their lunch.

‘Tom, I’d like you to meet my neighbour, and friend, Ada… Ada, This is my son, Tom.’

Ali looked up into a pair of the most clear blue eyes she’d ever seen. The skin around them crinkled slightly as the tall man smiled at her warmly. He took her right hand in his and covered it with his left. His hands were big and warm and almost swallowed her smaller hand whole as he shook it.

‘It is so nice to finally meet you, Ada. I’ve heard so much about you.’ 

Ali smiled shyly and nodded her agreement with his statement.

‘It is nice to finally meet. I have heard a lot about you, too.’

Then his eyes suddenly narrowed, his wide smile replaced by a smaller, more inquisitive one. He took in her appearance and then his gaze flew back up to her eyes. He tilted his head, as if trying to remember something.

Ali raised her eyebrows at his sudden change of demeanour. What was that all about?

He frowned slightly at her and wetted his lower lip with his tongue as he stared at her in thought.

‘Have we met before?’ He then asked.

She frowned and thought back, trying to remember if she ever saw him before. She shook her head. She would have remembered meeting such a handsome man. Right? Stubbornly she ignored the niggling voice in the back of her head that tried to remind her that she didn't always remember things clearly. Especially not from a certain dark time in her life.

‘I… I don’t th… think so.’ _Oh no_. there was her dreaded stutter. She had almost overcome it, but, sometimes, when she felt unsure of herself, it made a reappearance. She felt even more unsure of herself now, and looked up into his eyes with an apologetic smile. ‘I’m s… sorry. I sometimes have a stutter. It’ll p… pass.’

She saw his eyes widen in surprise and then his gaze sharpened. He bent over slightly so he could see her eyes better. Then he sucked in a breath, his expression incredulous.

‘Well, I’ll be damned.’ He mumbled quietly to himself. 

Then he suddenly said to her,  ‘Ali?’ He sounded flabbergasted by the discovery that he apparently already knew the woman standing in his mum's kitchen.

Ali gasped violently at that one small word, and her whole world shrunk down until there was only him, and her; the edges of her vision going blurry. She desperately tried to claw her way out of a burgeoning panic attack.

‘What?’ She couldn’t believe that he knew her name. He. knew. her. name... From before… From... 

He frowned at seeing her sudden distress.

‘You _are_ Ali, aren’t you? We met, in London, about two years ago. Don’t you remember?... I helped you after you had been attacked by those drunk men.’ He looked at her searchingly. ‘On _Primrose Hill_ … In _London._ I’m _Tom_.’ His voice had taken on a tone that told her he was desperately trying to compel her to remember him. It was a tone that she knew well. It had first been used by the hospital personnel and, later, by her friends. By  _his_ friends; the man she refused to think about. Until this moment. It brought with it some very bad memories… Of _him_. She didn’t like, didn’t _want,_ to remember those weeks and months after her stroke. It was too painful, too stressful. She tried to breathe calmly and somehow, with difficulty, she was able to reign in her panic.

Ali pulled her hand out of his and rubbed her temple, frowning; her eyes staring at the ground, flying back and forth as she tried to access her memories. There was nothing…

‘I… I don’t know.’ She mumbled and then looked back up at Tom with fear in her heart. How was it possible that she had _ever_ met him, before? If there was one thing she _was_ sure of, it was that she didn’t move in his social circles. She wasn’t even from the same country as he was. 

Then she finally processed what he’d said. 

’I was _attacked?_ ’ She felt horrified by that discovery. Her hand was trembling as she held it in front of her mouth in shock. Tom laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and tried to reassure her that everything was alright.

‘I helped you before anything really bad happened, chased the bastards off. How can you not remember? You looked very different then, but it was you, I’m sure of it…’ His voice trailed off, now sounding unsure of himself. He was starting to doubt if what he remembered was really what happened.

Diana decided to interfere at that moment.

‘Tom.’ She said gently. ‘Ada, or Ali, as you seem to know her, has had a stroke two years ago. You must remember me telling you, I’ve only mentioned it about fifty times… She suffered from severe head trauma after a car accident.’ Ali cringed slightly at hearing that lie being echoed back at her. It had been the easiest way to explain her stroke to Diana, in a time that she was fighting to forget her life from before and build a new life for herself in this town. 

Diana continued explaining Ali’s situation to Tom. 

‘She has lost two to three months of memories, from halfway through March two-thousand-fourteen until the beginning of June of that year, when she had her accident. So, if you have met her in that time, as you claim you did, it is entirely possible that she has no recollection of that event. In the month after her accident, she was in a coma. The stroke had jumbled up a lot of her brain functions. Even now, her short term memory isn’t as good as it should be. In the first two weeks after she came to live next door, I had to introduce myself about four times before it stuck. She’s getting better now, but don’t be surprised if she has trouble remembering minor things.’ She gave her son a stern look that left no room for any discussion of the subject. He just had to accept the things as they were and move on.

But Tom couldn’t just drop it and asked again, ‘You really don’t remember? Any of it?’ An expression of sympathy, mixed with shock from what he’d just learnt, was visible on his face. ‘Not even being in London?’

Ali shook her head and shrugged, grimacing.

‘No, I… I’m sorry, I don’t…’ It wasn’t the first time that she had been confronted with the hole in her memories, and like every other time, she was glad that she didn’t remember certain things. There hadn’t been much joy in that part of her life and she was glad to be rid of it. The only thing she now lamented was not remembering meeting this man. He seemed like someone she would like to get to know better, especially after all of Diana’s proud stories about her boy. Maybe, they could be friends in the future.

‘And what about your husband?’ Tom inquired.

Ali bit her lip. That was the inquiry she'd dreaded most, but had expected, after learning that he’d met her when her husband had still been in her life. The look on his face somehow told her he’d known about what had gone on in her marriage. How did he know? Did she tell him? Why did she tell him if they’d only just met?

‘He died, in the car accident.’ Diana helpfully supplied for Ali, unknowingly saving her from having to lie outright, again.

Tom sighed and then nodded his head, indicating that he remembered his mother telling him that, but not giving his condolences on her loss. Which told Ali more than anything else, that he’d known about the abuse, and about the hell she'd lived through. But _how?_ For the first time in a long time, she was frustrated that she couldn’t remember. Had they met more than once? She couldn’t imagine that they had, with how jealous and controlling her husband had been.

‘Okay. I'm sorry all that has happened to you, Ali.’ Tom said, looking her in the eye with a sympathetic expression on his face; clearly accepting that he wouldn’t be able to make her remember anything of the day they’d met. ‘How about we go outside and calm down a bit? Have some lunch?’ He gestured for the two women to go ahead in front of him, through the open doors.

Ali smiled with trembling lips and shot a stealthy look toward Diana, who looked happy with how things were progressing.

‘Yes, I’d love some lunch.’ She said, and together they made their way to the table in the garden, where Taylor and Sarah were unpacking pastries, and salads, and fruit, and several different kinds of artisanal bread, while Nina was distributing the colourful plastic plates.


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything but my OCs and this storyline.
> 
> I make no money with this story.
> 
> This is my Sandbox.
> 
> \-------------------------------------------
> 
> Phew. Long time no see, peeps!
> 
> That's what you get when you contract three types of flue within ten weeks; one 'normal' flue, one stomach flu, and one helluva nasty throat infection that had me out for the count for THREE flippin' weeks. Damnit... And on top of that, we had to get our house ready for sale. Oomph...  
> I'm fighting my way back, but my time behind the keyboard is limited, with house sale, work, and kids, on my plate; so, updates will be patchy and spread out a bit more. Sorry about that. :'(

**Chapter 5**

 

After a lovely lunch, Tom and Taylor insisted on clearing the table, leaving Diana, Sarah and Ali to relax, and talk amongst themselves, while Nina sat quietly on her mum’s lap, colouring in a colouring book that she’d received as a present from her uncle.

Ali fished her phone out of her pocket and checked the time. Ten to one. It was time for her to return to her shop. Especially now that the weather was so lovely and there were so many people milling about the small seaside town. Tourist season had begun, and it brought in quite a lot of customers for her jewellery business.

She stood up and kissed Diana on the cheek.

‘Thanks for the lovely lunch, love, but I really have to get going. My break is over in ten minutes and I have a few rings to finish polishing.’ She waved to Sarah and Nina. ‘Bye, girls, I’ll see you later! Don’t forget to bring your pyjamas for our slumber party, tonight! I’m expecting you at half eight, sharp.’ Mother and daughter waved and confirmed their attendance to the party, with enthusiastic whoops and high fives.

‘Bye Ali, see you later, take care.’ Diana said, with a warm smile and a small wave. 

It didn’t escape Ali’s attention that Diana had said her ‘real’ name, the name that her husband -and everybody else- used to call her in her former life, and for the first time in a long time, the use of that abbreviation of her name didn’t leave her feeling disgusted, or sad, or panicked. It just felt right, that Diana had called her by her given name. It felt like a taking back of her own name, pulling it out from under the darkness it -she- had lived in for so long. With a last smile to her friends at the table, she stepped into the kitchen.

Where she found Tom and Taylor canoodling, instead of putting the dishes into the dish washer. She cleared her throat and knocked on the side of the door. The two sprung apart, looking so muchlike two very guilty teenagers, that Ali had to suppress a chuckle.

‘Well, I’m off to my shop again. It was nice to meet you both. Maybe I’ll see you around, over the coming few days?’ She said.

Tom smiled and shook her hand.

‘It was very nice to meet you, again, too, Ali. I’m glad that you’re in a better place in your life than you were when we last met.’ Ali nodded in agreement and gave him a shy smile.

Then Taylor’s arms enveloped her as the woman hugged her warmly.

‘It was so nice to meet you, Ali. We were talking about going for a walk on the beach this afternoon. Maybe we’ll stop by your shop. I’m very curious about the jewellery you create. I always like to shop for sparkly things.’ She said enthusiastically as she pulled back, keeping her hands on Ali’s shoulders.

‘Oh, um, okay. I’m open until six, today. Maybe I’ll see you then.’ Ali answered with a small smile, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the woman’s overly tactile behaviour..

‘You betcha.’ The other woman said, with a wide smile.

Ali nodded at both of them and said a last ‘bye’ as she walked into the hallway.

_‘Oh. My. God. She’s so tiny and cute, I could just eat her up.’_ She heard Taylor squee-whisper to Tom. _‘How old do you think she is? She’s so shy and huggable. Do you think she’s my age? Maybe we could be friends!’_ Ali heard a delighted giggle come from the woman.

Quickly, Ali made her way out of the house, before she overheard even more that she wasn’t supposed to. She shook her head to herself, a chuckle escaping her as she pulled the front door closed behind her. People always underestimated her because of her short and slender stature. She was only five-foot-two and weighed a hundred-and-four pounds soaking wet. Almost no-one ever thought her to be thirty-six years old. People often estimating her to be quite a few years younger than she really was.

It used to irritate her immensely, but it was something that kept coming back, over and over, and one day she just decided to go with it, and then blow people away with her knowledge and life experience. She had lived through a lot of shit, it just didn’t show on her face… Yet. She was sure that her shallow laugh lines would deepen into folds in the coming years. Ageing, it was just inevitable, and she didn’t really mind, it happened to everyone, eventually. With the life she’d had up until now, she sometimes already felt so much older than she really was. Sometimes she felt ancient, especially when her body didn’t want to cooperate because of her stroke.

Carefully, Ali peeked around the front garden gate, to see if the photographers were still there. Of course they were. Well, only one way to return to her shop, then. Instead of going right, she turned left, keeping her head down and not reacting to the shouts of the paparazzi. Going the other way around, was a bit of a detour, but it was not to be helped. She wasn’t going back through the throng of photographers. Especially not now they’d seen her go into Diana’s house. They’d hound her all the way to her shop, if she wasn’t careful.

Ten minutes later, she’d opened up her shop again and started the polishing of two rings she’d made on commission, for a wedding. She tinkered part of her afternoon away on the rings, and, after that, started working on a necklace and pendant. The design had been in her head for a while now, and last weekend she’d sketched it out. She’d started work on it the day before, but as closing time had been around the corner, she hadn’t had time to finish it. 

During the rest of the afternoon, she’d had to interrupt her crafting a few times, to help customers choose a piece of jewellery. She didn’t have many pieces in her shop. Just some earrings, necklaces and bracelets, and a few rings. Her shop was too small to display both all the jewellery she’d made _and_ house her workshop, so she had decided that she’d keep most of the jewellery in a safe in the back of the shop, and only show a few statement pieces in the show cases at one given time. It worked very well, because the walk ins usually went for the smaller pieces, ear studs and rings and the like, and her regulars rang her in advance, to make an appointment for choosing a piece, which she mostly closed the store for. And it was safer for her to not have too much expensive metals and gems on display.

Her business was gaining traction after she’d also created an online shop. Many people ordered her work online now. It gave her business the boost it needed, and it allowed her to pick and choose her projects and not be as dependent on commissions as she used to be. It did mean she sometimes worked until deep in the night in her workshop at home, though, but, because she loved what she did, she didn’t mind it one bit.

It was nearing five when the front door to her shop opened and five people rolled in from outside, happily chatting and laughing. Ali looked up from her workbench, putting down the pendant she’d been crafting, and smiled happily at the woman who approached her.

‘Well, hello there, Diana.’ She looked past her neighbour at the mother and daughter who followed her. ‘Hi Sarah, Nina.’ The little girl ran to her and almost bowled her over with the enthusiastic hug she gave. 

‘You remembered my name!’ The girl squeed. Ali laughed elatedly.

‘You’re right, I did.’ She looked past Diana and Sarah, toward the two tall people who were standing patiently behind them, whilst looking around and taking in the the sparkly bits and bobs that were displayed in her shop.

Gingerly, she disentangled herself from the octopus named Nina and made her way to the tall, handsome man and his equally pretty and tall companion. She stuck out her hand to him and smiled politely.

‘Hello, you must be Tom. Diana told me much about you in the past months. And showed me pictures. It so very nice to finally meet you. I’m Adaline Benoit.’

The man, who had been smiling brightly at her as she walked towards him and his partner, seemed to startle and his smile lost some of its brightness. A silence fell over the people in the shop as he took her hand.

‘Um, yes, very nice to meet you, too.’ He said, and fell silent. His smile had disappeared and his eyes were solemn as he met her gaze searchingly.

Nina suddenly giggled, breaking the awkward silence.

‘Oh, Aunt Ali. Your brain forgot that we all had lunch together and you kicked a man in the nuts.’

‘Nina!’ Sarah admonished her daughter.

‘What? She did so!’ Nina exclaimed obstinately.

Ali turned around to look at the girl, a feeling of dread coming over her.

‘What?’ she whispered. Could it be that she’d had a set-back? It had been months since that had happened.

‘We all had lunch together.’ The girl patiently said. ‘And you kicked the angry man in the nuts. And then you met uncle Tom, but he already knew you from years ago. And we found out that your name was Ali then. And I helped you in the shop in the morning and we made a necklace for me. Look.’ She grabbed the pendant that laid on her chest and showed Ali the bead necklace. ‘And we tricked all the nasty photographers. And I had chocolate milk. And now your name is Aunt Ali. Mum said so.’ Nina took in a deep gulp of air after rattling all that information in one breath.

A gasp escaped Ali and she felt dizzy, a pressure starting to creep up her neck towards the back of her head. She rubbed her temple and squeezed her eyes shut as she swayed.Fear exploded in her tummy when the girl’s words got through the mist in her head. They knew?!? What did they know?!? She felt herself tilting to the right, unable to keep her balance in the face of her inner turmoil.

‘Whoah.’ She heard the exclamation from behind her, just before a pair of big, strong hands landed heavily on her upper arms, keeping her upright. Too tight. A shock of fear and adrenaline went through her and she flinched violently, crying out and pulling away, shrugging off the hands and turning around while taking a step back. Which didn’t end well on her part. Before she knew it, she’d landed her arse on the floor, hard, her hands scraping over the wooden planks as she caught herself before the floor could do any more damage to her body. She hissed as she felt her hip protesting its rough treatment. That was going to leave a bruise. She just knew it.

Looking up, she saw five shocked faces staring down at her and she started to blush furiously. Fuck. She’d just made an utter arse of herself. How was she going to explain that away?

_Yeah, my ex-husband used to beat the crap out of me on a regular basis, so I don’t react too well to sudden, unexpected touches. Oh yeah, and I’m kinda on the run, so discovering that my cover is kinda blown didn’t go over too well with my psyche…_

Nope. Not an option.

‘I… I’m sorry. You startled me…’ She lamely said to Tom. Whom she’d apparently already met today. 

Tom stepped forward and helped her up, careful not to startle her this time. She noticed his slow movements and non-threatening body language.

‘Thanks.’ She said sheepishly when she was upright again. She rubbed her hip and grimaced at the dull pain.

‘No problem.’ Tom said as he narrowed his eyes, observing her closely. ‘Are you alright?’

Ali nodded and gave him a small, reassuring smile.

‘Nothing wrong. Just a bruise, I think. It’ll heal.’ Her quick dismissal of her injuries had him frowning worriedly. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve had worse. I’ll be alright.’ 

Shit. Why did she say that? She saw his expression darken at her admission of being hurt worse. The remark just fell from her lips. Like an afterthought. And for a long, long time, it had been exactly that. Bruises were afterthoughts. Broken bones were more serious. Harder to hide.

‘So, what brings you all here on this lovely afternoon?’ She talked over the uncomfortable moment. Diverting the attention to the group of people in her shop, instead of keeping it on herself.

Diana cleared her throat and hugged her tightly, keeping her movements slow.

‘I’m so sorry for what you went through.’ She whispered so softly, that Ali had trouble hearing her. ‘Just know that you’re safe here. Okay?’ Diana pulled back and gave her a meaningful look.

Shite. She knew.

Ali sighed, and nodded at her friend, giving her a small tightlipped smile.

Then Diana spoke out loud.

‘We were wondering if you wanted to join us in the pub. We’re just back from the beach and we’re going for a few pints and Tea.’

Smiling, Ali acquiesced.

‘Sure, I’m closing up in about thirty minutes, so if you save me a seat, I’ll be there in forty.’

‘Yay!’ exclaimed Nina and she did a little strange wiggly dance, which made the grownups laugh.

After a few goodbyes, the group left her shop.

Ali sighed as she stepped up to the window and waved at them as they crossed the street and disappeared into the village pub.

She would do well to remember everything that had just transpired, to prevent future faux-passes. She suspected that she'd blocked out the lunch because of trauma. If her 'cover' had been blown, that could have sent her into a panic which, in turn, could have triggered the amnesia. Probably... 

Rubbing the side of her head, she cursed the day when she sustained her brain injury. She should have never stayed with _him_ as long as she did. Too bad that one could only see everything clearly when one looked back, never when looking forward. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments feed the muse. ;)


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Ali’s shop things escalate. A bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strange... Somehow AO3 won’t let me select parts of my text to convert into italics. I’ll come back to do that later, but for now, you’ll have to make do with plain text. Sorry about that.
> 
> Don’t own anything you recognise.
> 
> Don’t make money with this story.
> 
> This is my Sandbox.

Chapter 6

 

The next half hour consisted of Ali repeating keypoints of the whole day back to herself, over and over, while she cleaned up her shop for closing. As she sprayed the glass displays with window cleaning spray and wiped them down with a soft cloth, the rhythm of the wiping motion helped her to concentrate on imprinting the recent memories she’d lost, or misplaced, into her brain. They may have been second hand memories, as told by Nina, but still. Better than nothing.

Made necklace with Nina... Kicked an assho... man in the nuts. Lunched at Diana’s. Met Diana’s son Tom and his girlfriend... What’s her name... Going to the pub after closing... Made necklace with Nina. Kicked man in the nuts. Lunched at Diana’s. Met Diana’s son Tom and his girlfriend... Going to the pub after closing. Made necklace with Nina. Kicked man in the nuts. Lunched at Diana’s. Met Diana’s son Tom and his girlfriend. Going to the pub...

... _Oh_ , _no_...

 _They_ _know_ _about_ _my_ _past_.

A cold shiver of trepidation traveled down her spine at the sudden, intrusive thought. Freezing in her cleaning motions, she stood with the cloth in her hand, leaning on one of the jewellery displays, her eyes unseeingly flitting to and fro as she processed that unsettling piece of information.

Taking in a shuddering breath, and trying to remain calm, she thought on it a bit more. Coming to the conclusion that maybe it was more accurate to say that they didn’t really know, but most, if not all, of them suspected that something was very off about her past, she stubbornly resumed cleaning the glass cases as thoughts of the earlier meeting swirled through her mind.

Apparently Tom knew her from years ago, from before. He knew about the abuse. She’d seen it in his eyes after she’d pulled away from him so... dramatically. And she was sure that Diana suspected, after her over-reaction to Tom’s unexpected touch, and her consecutive casual dismissal of the bruise forming on her hip. The others... Well, the two younger women had at first looked at her in confusion, and then with a hesitant, dawning comprehension as they had observed her interactions with Tom and Diana. _Fuck_...

Then she remembered something else. Something even more disturbing.

 _Wait_ _a_ _minute_... _What_ _did_ _Nina_ _mention_ _about_ _there_ _being_ _photographers?!_

There were photographers? As in... The Press? In this small village?

They must be there for Diana’s son, the world famous actor, and his girlfriend...

 _Looking_ _the_ _way_ _she_ _does_ , _she_ _must_ _be_ _famous_ , _too_ , _just_ _like_ _Tom_... _Shite_!

Were there photographers hanging about the centre of the village right now? Near the pub? Waiting for Tom and his family to emerge? Had they followed the group from the beach to her shop, earlier?

 _What_ _if_ _**I’ve**_ _been_ _photographed?_

That last thought triggered a primal fear response so violent that Ali almost collapsed to the floor. Gasping for air, she clung to the display case she’d been cleaning. Leaning on her forearms, and huching over, she fought to stay in control of her body. The lights illuminating the sparkling gems inside the case were hurting her eyes. She pushed the palms of her hands against her eyes to lock out the piercing brightness. Her heart pounded in her chest so forcefully that she became afraid it would burst free, and she could feel the echoes of her heartbeat travel up her neck and into her head. The pulsing ringing in her ears becoming louder and louder, until it was all she could hear. The thought that she could have been photographed while talking to Tom inside her shop, instilled a paralysing terror deep inside her gut. Photographs went viral these days. Especially those of people as famous as Tom...

 _What_ _if_ _**he**_ _sees_ _them?_ _What_ _if_ _**he**_ _finds_ _me?!_

Suddenly, the melodic jingle of the shop bell loudly pierced through her panic, and a big, heavy hand landed on her right shoulder not a second later.

Turning around and crying out with fear, half sagging against the display case, she saw _**him**_. Broad shouldered and intimidating, he towered over her; his short, dark brown hair artfully dishevelled, as it always was. _**He**_ had found her! Screaming, she stepped to the side, clinging to the display case to keep her balance, and tried to put the case between herself and her assailant. In her panic, she tipped the window spray bottle over with her elbow, and accidentally knocked it to the floor, where it landed with a dull thud, the spray cap cracking and unleashing a flood of blueish liquid, spreading over the wooden floorboards.

The man in front of her kept advancing as he spoke; his words unintelligible gibberish as he followed her around the case and reached out to her. Ali tripped over her own feet when she recoiled, and, for the second time that day, landed on her back on the floor, pain shooting along her spine as it came into contact with the wooden floor boards.

The fall jostled her brain enough to shake loose the feared image of her husband from her retinas. Blinking, Ali groaned in pain and fear as she looked up at the man towering over her. Apart from the dark brown hair, he didn’t even look like the man who had made her life a living hell for years without end.

His lips moved as he talked to her, but it didn’t register over the ringing in her ears. In one hand, he clutched a camera, and the other hand was extended toward her. Cringeing away from the stranger in front of her, Ali shuffled backwards on her bum, until her back hit the wall under her crafting table. She cried out in fear again when he reached under the table, his hand opening and closing over empty air when she ducked out of the way.

‘Come on, lady. I just wanna talk to you. No reason to overreact and get all hysterical.’ The first words she could discern over the pounding of her heart and the ringing in her ears, were an exasperated exclamation. ‘Ya had me fooled last time I saw ya. All innocent big eyes, sayin’ ya don’t know Tom. Now yer gonna give up some juicy information on the whole HiddleSwift situation. We’ll call it... compensation.’ The man sounded amused at his own conclusion. ‘If ye cooporate like a good girl, I’ll even throw in a small percentage of the earnings for ya.’ He grabbed her roughly by the arm, finally getting a hold on her, and hauled her out of her hiding place. ‘Up ya go.’

Cringeing away from the man, she tried to pull her arm from his grip.

‘Let me _go_.’ Ali hated how weak her voice sounded; the tremble in it audible as tears ran down her cheeks. Somehow, she couldn’t stop crying and she despised herself for it. The man only snickered, clearly not intending to let go of her arm any time soon.

‘Nah, yer a bit too slippery for my tastes. First yer gonna give up the goods, so to speak. So... Tell me, whadda ya know about Hiddleston an’ Swift?’

The door to her shop slammed open with a bang, the bell jingling like it was going to come loose from the doorframe, and a shockwave traveling through the floorboards under Ali’s feet.

A second later, the man was plucked away from her as if he weighed nothing. Startled, Ali grabbed on to one of the display cases as she was jostled by the photographer. He upset her balance when he didn’t let go of her immediately. When she looked up in confusion, all she could see was the white t-shirt clad back of a familiarly tall, blond haired man, as he positioned himself protectively in front of her, and shouted at the photographer who had just harrassed her.

Tom.

‘What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?!’ Diana’s son seethed. He bodily forced the other man toward the door.

‘Hey man, just tryin’ ta make a livin’. No harm done.’ The photographer backed up, holding his hands up in front of his chest, palms out, in a placating gesture. ‘Ye know how it is. Issa dog-eat-dog world.’

‘No harm _done_?! Look at what you did, you _**wanker**_!’ Roared Tom as he angrily gestured back to where Ali was leaning heavily on the display case, having trouble keeping her breathing under control. He pushed the man again. ‘ _ **Get**_ _**the**_ _**fuck**_ **_out!_** ’

‘Yeah, yeah, _relax_ , man.’ The photographer reached behind him for the doorknob and pulled open the door. Within seconds he was gone, and the door fell closed behind him.

Through eyes blurry with tears, Ali gazed at the tall man who was standing in the middle of her shop. His broad shoulders were hunched forward and his tall, slender figure nearly vibrated with rage as he put both his hands on his hips and stared at the floor for what seemed like a long time, his face a perfectly darkened profile against the brightness of the window. Then he lifted one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and he breathed in and out slowly, visibly trying to rein in his anger and calm himself down after the almost violent altercation with the photographer. Time somehow appeared to pass slowly in those seconds after the photographer had left the shop, and the only sounds heard were Tom’s measured breaths and Ali’s quiet sniffles as she desperately tried to regain her self-control.

Almost a minute had passed before Tom sighed deeply and resignedly; the pent up tension leaving his body in a whoosh as he straightened his shoulders and relaxed his stance. He turned to walk towards her, a worried expression having replaced the fury that had been visible on his face during his spat with the paparazzo.

Ali was sure she looked a mess, with her eyes wild and tear-streaks on her cheeks. Ashamedly, she wiped her face with the sleeve of her cardigan as she tried to blink away the tears of relief that were welling up now that the stressful situation had been resolved.

Mentally kicking herself for being such a wuss, she made a herculean effort to stand up straight and look up at Tom. Craning her neck to do so, because he had at least a foot on her in height. Despite him towering over her, Ali didn’t feel intimidated by him. Not even after his recent display of anger and his physically coralling the paparazzo out of her shop. 

Somehow, the entirety of the Hiddleston clan had a calming effect on her. She had noticed it almost immediately when she’d met Diana, and, after that, Emma. Both women having a certain self-assured serenity about them that just settled her nerves and anxiety, allowing her to breathe. Sarah, whom she’d met only a few days earlier, displayed the same traits, though she was a bit more quick-tempered and energetic than her sister and mother. And now it looked like the only male in said clan took slightly more after his older sister, temper wise and in his atletic endeavours -Diana had told her how both her eldest children loved to run-, but even he exuded a certain inner tranquility that lay at the deepest core of his personality, underneath all the unquenchable energy that was always so visibly present.

‘I’m sorry...’ Ali apologised when the silence stretched for longer than she was comfortable with. Though she had no idea what she was apologising for. The words just escaped her. Like an automatically generated form of self protection. It made her cringe internally. Shite. The automatic inclination to apologise was one knee-jerk response so deeply ingrained in her psyche that it would most probably never disappear completely. At least she hadn’t recoiled from him when he’d approached her. Yay for small favours. Right?

The man in front of her frowned.

‘What on earth do _you_ have to be sorry for?’ With slow, non-threatening movements, he gently put his hands on her shoulders and bent towards her slightly, so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck as much to look him in the eyes. ‘ _I’m_ the one who should be apologising.’ When he saw her surprised and doubtful expression at his admission he continued, ‘Ali, _I’m_ the reason those leeches are out there today. _I’m_ the reason you were accosted. If I hadn’t been here, those wankers wouldn’t have been here either. I’m _so_ sorry.’

A shiver travelled down Ali’s spine when Tom subconsciously started to rub his thumbs over her clavicles, in slow, comforting circles; the big hands cradling her shoulders making her feel sheltered. The innocent touch sparked something inside her that she’d thought forever lost; a warmth spreading through her, and butterflies exploding in her tummy. The concerned expression on Tom’s face convinced her that he hadn’t even noticed what he was doing, or her unexpected reaction to it. He was too focused on apologising and assuring her that she had no blame in anything that had happened. That everything was his fault.

The harsh voicing of self-blame coming from him shook her from her sudden daze. Shaking her head, Ali made a protesting sound and raised her hands to place them on his forearms, squeezing lightly to emphasise her words before letting go again.

‘No! It’s not your fault.’ She was adamant. It was no-one’s fault but the paparazzo who had decided that pressuring her into answering his questions about Tom and his girlfriend would be an easy pay-day. ‘That man was _way_ out of line. He had _no_ right to do what he did, but it was _his_ choice to do so. You are _not_ responsible for other people’s behaviour, mr Hiddleston.’ Needing for him to understand this, Ali pressed, ‘I mean it. Don’t take the blame for something you have no control over.’

Surprise coloured the expression on his face as he gazed down at her in silence. Then, a tentative smile appeared on his face, crinkles forming around his warm blue eyes as he beamed at her.

‘You are far too gracious and forgiving, ms Benoit...And, please, call me Tom.’ He tilted his head as he looked at her, visibly contemplating something.

‘What is it?’ Ali raised her eyebrows when she saw how he searched for the words to express himself. She reassuringly patted his right hand where it still rested on her shoulder. ‘It’s okay, I’m okay, I’m a very resilient person, and there’s _nothing_ you can say that will shock me. Believe me, I’ve had quite the day...’ The humour shone through in her voice as she rolled her eyes, and he chuckled.

‘It’s just, the last time I asked, you declined, quite firmly, and now I’m wondering if I’m overstepping any boundaries if I ask again.’ He frowned slightly and suddenly looked unsure of himself.

‘The last time you asked... Well, that’s quite obscure... What did you ask, that last time that I can’t remember?’ Ali prodded, her tone simutaneously inquiring and self-deprecating. She hadn’t a clue about what he was talking about.

‘It was... um... back in London... Just over two years ago. You were so... sad. And you looked... so lost...’ Tom hesitated, releasing her shoulders before continuing, ‘I asked if you would allow me to hug you, but you declined...’

‘So, now you...’

‘May I give you a hug?’ He looked so pure and hopeful as he threw the sentence out hurriedly, as if he was expecting a refusal, that Ali laughed softly. The man really was an intricate combination of opposites. She nodded her consent with a small smile.

‘Yes, you may.’

Opening his arms to her, he stepped forward, but left it to her to make the final move. Without any hesitation, Ali took the last step and moved into his embrace.

It was an innocent, but intense cuddle. The man definitely knew how to hug. It wasn’t just a wrapping around of arms; Tom appeared to hug with his whole body. Ali was surrounded by his warmth. His scent, a mix of lingering sea air, cologne, and an underlying, more musky tone, clung to his clothes, and filled her lungs when she breathed in as her cheek was pressed up against his chest; causing a slow, and completely unexpected burn to start in her lower abdomen. She tried her best not to notice the muscled firmness of his pecs and abdomen, or the strength of the arms surrounding her, but that was easier said than done; especially when there was only a flimsy white t-shirt between her and said muscles.

Closing her eyes, she sighed quietly, and decided to just enjoy the sensation of safety and calm the embrace brought her. It wouldn’t do to entertain any other feelings this man had inadvertently awoken in her; feelings she’d thought had been beaten out of her, snuffed out by a monster.

Tom was her neighbour’s son, and he was completely smitten with the tall, elegant blonde she’d seen earlier, that much had been crystal clear for even her to see. She’d never try and come between them, or betray her friend Diana like that; it just wasn’t in her to behave in such a way. And what was more, there was no way that a man like Tom would ever look at frumpy, artsy Ali the way he looked at the willowy young woman. The world just didn’t work that way. So she pushed everything down and locked it away.

After a couple of seconds, Ali loosened her arms from where they had been wrapped around his waist, and pulled back. It took a moment for Tom to realise she was retreating from the hug, but then he -almost reluctantly, it seemed- also released her and straightened himself to his full height, looking down at her with a small smile and twinkling eyes.

‘So, how about some Tea?’ He asked. ‘I don’t know about you, but I could eat...’

Ali swallowed around the fear that suddenly raised its ugly head and pushed it down. There was no way that she hadn’t been photographed, she had to accept that. And hope for the best. Hope that _he_ wouldn’t see them, or wouldn’t recognise her if he did. She’d changed a lot since she’d last seen _him_...

Taking a deep breath, she nodded at Tom.

‘Sure, give me a moment to clean this up and close the shop. Alright?’

‘Take your time, darling.’ Tom put his hands in his pockets and leisurely wandered around the shop, admiring the different kinds of jewelry while Ali mopped up the spilled window cleaner liquid and then locked away the most expensive pieces of her collection.

Grabbing the keys to her shop from the desk in the back room, she hurried back out into the shop where Tom was waiting patiently for her to finish up.

‘Alright, I think that’s everything. Shall we go?’ She said.

Straightening up from where he had been bent over one of the display cases, Tom smiled dazzlingly at her. Something that had her reeling for a moment, before she schooled herself and shook it off.

‘I’m ready when you are.’ He said, and gestured for her to exit the shop first

Shaking her head, Ali ushered him out of the shop and pulled the door closed behind her. After locking up, she lowered the shutters, and checked if everything was secure. When she was satisfied, she turned to Tom, who was watching her with a curious expression on his face. Something he quickly hid when he realised she was observing him. He stuck out his elbow for her to take.

‘Shall we?’ He said in a jokingly posh accent.

Ali snickered and took his proffered arm.

‘We shall, good sir.’

As they crossed the street, Ali made sure to keep her head down as much as she could without looking like a loon. If there were any photographers in the streets, she didn’t see any, so, she hoped against all odds that her own exposure would stay at a minimum.

Then the doors to the pub opened and she was ushered inside by a very enthusiastic man, who was clearly very much looking forward to his dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love to hear from you guys and gals, so leave me a note if you want. :)
> 
> Kudos are always very much appreciated. The muse practically lives off those delectable snacks. ;)
> 
> Cheers! ^_^


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